


Invading your personal space

by Lullabylily



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 05:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lullabylily/pseuds/Lullabylily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thin layers of frost are covering the grounds and halls of Camelot. With slippery floors everwhere, Merlin was fated to take a tumble...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invading your personal space

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted Christmas 2010 as a gift!fic for lhune. Christmas being my excuse for the fluff-factor.

**Invading your personal space**

  
  
It was an absolute miracle that Merlin  _sometimes_  did manage to bring simple, menial tasks to a good end. A scientific miracle, so much that Arthur had started to keep lists.   
  
Serving water and wine at the dinner table without spilling: a task now successfully accomplished for 38 consecutive days. (This was not taking into account the time Merlin had stumbled on his way back to the kitchens, making the remainder of a jug’s contents splatter all over the floor.)  
  
Bringing Arthur’s lunch or dinner up to his chambers when he dined alone: 25 consecutive days on which all pieces on the plate remained there until Arthur chose to eat them.   
  
Filling up Arthur’s bath: 100 days without incident – a personal record – though on only 24 of them did the water have an acceptable temperature.   
  
Continuing days on which Merlin did not upset his father? 15.   
  
Days free from visits to the stocks: 56 – an absolute record.   
  
But it was days like  _these_  on which Arthur considered just throwing all the lists overboard; days on which Merlin turned up black and blue, sweating and looking at Arthur with a guilty expression.  
  
“I tripped… The stairs… They were slippery…”  
  
Arthur cuffed Merlin’s head reflexively, but regretted it a moment later when he remembered the glimpse he’d gotten from large, black bruises on Merlin’s hips and lower back.   
  
It was infuriating. His manservant was an utter idiot, managing to get himself in some mess every single day. But it was even more infuriating that Arthur wanted to just wrap Merlin up in cushions to make sure his pathetically skinny frame wouldn’t be littered with more dark-blue marks.  
  
“I know. I know,” Merlin droned, “I’m an idiot. But it really is dangerous out there. It’s the frost,” he glumly explained.  
  
“I don’t care if it freezes or not! Climbing a set of stairs requires a basic sense of balance that even toddlers can manage.”  
  


∼*∼*∼  
It was still freezing a few days later. It really was. Arthur ignored it, of course, and instructed Merlin to do the same.  
  
“All you have to do is walk normal. Calm, dignified. Staying upright really isn’t as difficult as you make it look.”   
  
Arthur ignored the scowl on Merlin’s face.  
  
Then his shoe caught a particularly slippery patch. His center completely thrown, he wobbled dangerously, flailing his arms back and forth until he felt steady again.   
  
On top of it all, his already inelegant gestures had been accompanied by an involuntary “Umph!” sound.   
  
Arthur let out a slightly shaky breath, staring wide-eyed ahead of him and back to the floor that was gleaming treacherously, and then at Merlin, who had the gal to smirk at him.  
  
“You were saying?  _My dignified lord_?”   
  
“You!” Arthur bellowed, and took an angry step into Merlin’s direction. Merlin, rightly expecting a smack on the head, jumped away, darting sideways.   
  
The following things happened in just the blink of an eye.   
  
Merlin’s foot slipped away on the slippery floor, he flew forward with alarming speed and since the little oaf did not possess even the slightest survival instinct, he was clearly headed for the ground face-forward. Arthur made a snap decision to intervene; he catapulted his body forward, reaching out to grab Merlin by the arm. He succeeded, partly at least, and Merlin in turn responded by fully clinging to him with both hands wrapped around Arthur’s shirt and leather vest.   
  
Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how it happened that they were now both headed for the ground, but he was certain Merlin was to blame.  
  
It was surely Merlin’s fault that the idiot ended up sprawled on top of him.   
  
Arthur, being trained to get up quickly after taking a tumble in a fight, wasn’t disorientated one bit. But Merlin clearly was; he seemed to be in some bizarre state of panic; muttering unintelligible things under his breath that sounded like “I’m sorry!” and ‘Are you alright?” All the while still hanging on to Arthur and his shirt.   
  
His weight still pushing Arthur down, Arthur prodded Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin was drastically underweight and Arthur could have pushed him off of him like a toothpick, but that would probably be unkind, given Merlin’s current state of distress.  
  
So he opted to carefully coax sense back into Merlin, because that was how you dealt with lunatics.  
  
“Merlin. Get off me.”  
  
Merlin then proceeded to almost lose his balance. Again. (How someone could lose his balance while being horizontal was a mystery to Arthur.) All clearly in an attempt to obey Arthur’s order, Merlin managed to almost knock Arthur’s eye out with his elbow while his other hand seemed to use Arthur’s cheek as support.   
  
But they remained horizontal; their bodies still tangled together.   
  
“ _Merlin_!” Arthur exclaimed exasperated, when his servant continued to do nothing to improve their condition.   
  
In fact, it all worsened. Merlin, still trying to scramble into something resembling an upright position, somehow managed to get a knee between Arthur’s legs. Arthur moaned at the sudden pressure against his groin when he heard a small cough.  
  
“Sire?”   
  
Arthur didn’t even have to stretch his neck to recognize the voice belonging to Sir Leon.   
  
He flushed bright red. “Get  _off_  me, Merlin.” He pushed more firmly against the man; whether it is that or the vaguely threatening tone of his voice, Merlin finally managed to get vertical and at least an arm’s length away from where Arthur is standing, dusting his clothes.   
  
Arthur did his best to ignore both his servant and his knight.  
  
“I have to be somewhere,” he muttered and took off.   
  
∼*∼*∼  
Arthur decided the ‘incident’ is best forgotten and he was happily going through life as if nothing had happened, until Leon joined him in the armoury a few days later.  
  
He cast him a knowing smile. Arthur stared back at him, uncomfortable.  
  
“I’ve always suspected, you know.” Leon said casually.  
  
“About what?” Arthur had a sneaking suspicion, but he ignored it.  
  
“About you and Merlin.” Leon said, smiling beamingly at Arthur.   
  
Arthur’s eyes quickly shifted to the door, it was half-open but there were no guards around. “What are you talking about?” he said defensively.  
  
“Merlin. I always thought he was rude not to respect boundaries. He constantly invades your personal space and you always let him. In fact, I’ve seen you encourage it, always pulling him close to you. But now I just think it’s wonderful what the two of you have.”  
  
Arthur was flabbergasted for a moment. He felt as if he’d run a mile in his chain mail. The comments about letting Merlin invade his space made his throat tighten.   
  
“What we have?” Arthur managed to choke out. “We can’t have anything.”  
  
Instead of sounding indignant and offended he had wound up sounding bitter and melancholic.   
  
And Leon stared at him all sympathy and understanding smiles. “You know you could have Merlin any time you wanted.”  
  
Blood surged to Arthur’s head as the words reverberated inside of him. The thought that he could  _have_  Merlin suddenly arousing him, making him face the truth that he  _wanted_  to have his servant.   
  
“But you’re not like that;” Leon continued, “You’re not forcing him. Merlin adores you. I see it in the way he looks at you, the way he’s  _always_  watching you, as if he can’t bear to leave you out of sight. That is why he’s chased you along every mad quest you’ve ever embarked on, isn’t it?”  
  
Merlin  _was_  always by his side, to the point where Arthur was annoyed by it. But the way Leon said it, warmheartedly and as if it was the greatest gift in the world, he wanted to grab Merlin and tie him to him so that he could never leave Arthur’s side, even if he wanted to.   
  
“It’s not…” Arthur started feebly, but he couldn’t voice any excuses, any denials. His silence speaking loud and clear and Leon grinned at him.   
  
∼*∼*∼  
  
When Arthur entered his chambers he was not nervous. He was not. And this condition did not worsen when he saw Merlin busily fluffing up his pillows. Oh no. The same pillow he’d thrown at Merlin that morning, after first grabbing his tunic, to make sure he couldn’t escape the feathered blow. Merlin had been all sheepish and hysterical laughter, pulling away Arthur’s blankets so the prince just  _had_  to get out of bed in order to chase his servant around the room.   
  
‘Invading each other’s personal space.’ Was that what it had been like? It was  _Merlin_. Just watching him straightening Arthur’s blankets made him want to bloody well invade some ‘personal space’.   
  
Merlin looked up at him, eyes questioning Arthur, wordlessly asking him why he seemed frozen on the spot one step away from the door.   
  
Arthur was conscious of the escape route behind him.  
  
“Hi?” Merlin asked, with an uncertain smile.  
  
How someone was able to break through Arthur’s resolve without even  _trying_ , Arthur did not want to know. He took a couple of strides in Merlin’s direction until he was right in front of the man.  
  
 _Right_  in front of him. Merlin arched backwards, but he was cornered against the bed. He did not look intimidated.  
  
“What did I do wrong this time?” Merlin asked, slight exasperation in his voice.   
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re towering over me, that usually means you’re about to give me a lecture on how to properly polish your royal shoes or something.” Merlin rolled his eyes as he mentioned the shoes, he did always complain Arthur had too many pairs of boots.  
  
Arthur took a small step forward; their noses were almost touching now. “Am I invading your personal space, Merlin?  
  
Merlin blinked at him. “Erm… What?”   
  
“Your space. Am I violating it?”  
  
“Violating what?”   
  
Merlin looked at him as if he was insane. Arthur knew for a fact he really was. He pushed Merlin forward and let them both tumble onto the bed and onto each other. Well.. Arthur was on Merlin.   
  
Merlin let out a small yelp but he didn’t protest or push Arthur away, quite possibly because his reactions were equal to that of a snail.   
  
“Am I invading your personal space, Merlin?” Arthur repeated his question. “I want to invade it, but I want you to want it too.”   
  
He shuffled to align their bodies, their groins… coming face to face with his servant, breathing onto his face.  
  
“You’re always chasing me about, or so Leon says” Arthur continued, relishing in the breathless of Merlin’s gaze, fixed upon him. “Now I’m chasing  _you_  and you need to tell me to stop now, or I won’t.”  
  
“Chasing me?” Merlin choked out.   
  
Arthur could tell he was shocked, but beyond that he couldn’t read the expression; whether it was fear or excitement.   
  
“You’re not chasing me, you idiot. You’re attacking me!”  
  
Arthur would have gotten upright, head beet-red and guilt tightening his throat, had he not seen the unmistakable mirth in Merlin’s eyes.   
  
Arthur loosened the grip he hadn’t realized he had on Merlin. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He said, letting his hand rest on Merlin’s neck, lightly tugging his neckerchief.  
  
Merlin remained quiet for a moment, only their breathing audible, speeding up at the same pace. Until Arthur felt telltale hardness in the region of Merlin’s groin.  
  
“You  _are_  invading my… personal space.” Merlin said breathlessly, “But if you dare stop now, I’ll never forgive you.”  
  
Arthur liked to think he was the one that initiated the kiss, but it wasn’t. It was Merlin, who was always bold to the point of it being suicidal, who arched up to Arthur and captured his lips.   
  
Merlin wasn’t slow or clumsy; his hands were eager, he was responsive and pliant. And he moaned loudly when Arthur kissed his neck, the sound vibrating deeply against Arthur’s mouth.  
  
And Arthur could have him, all of him, Merlin whispered again and again.   
  
Later, when Merlin looked at him from amidst the tangled blankets, looking all flushed and happy, Arthur quietly thanked him for being  _Merlin_ , for tripping on the icy floor and falling. For Leon to see them both entangled.   
  
He should thank Leon some day. Maybe promote him be Camelot’s First Knight when he became king.   
  
Merlin on the other hand… He can thank Merlin in an entirely different way. Very invading. And very personal. He would thank Merlin all night long.


End file.
